


No One's Going To Fear The Reaper

by stilinski_wolf



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Grim Reaper!AU, Grim Reaper!Derek, Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-28 07:31:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7630825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stilinski_wolf/pseuds/stilinski_wolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek has been the grim reaper for as long as he can remember, helping those who pass cross over into the afterlife - although he sometimes vaguely remembers having a human life at one point.</p><p>When a boy named Stiles Stilinski almost dies, Derek is drawn to him for reasons Derek isn't entirely sure of. And when Stiles keeps almost dying - and starts to see Derek, which has never happened to Derek before - Derek is drawn to Stiles more and more, and the longer he's around Stiles, the more he starts to fall for him.</p><p>And when he learns there's a chance for him to become human again, Derek tries to not even dare to hope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No One's Going To Fear The Reaper

All he knew about himself is that his name was Derek, and that he had one job: to bring people into their afterlife.

When it’s time for someone to die, Derek is there, and he is the last thing they see before they’re gone for good. Before Derek takes them from the world. 

And the only people who ever see Derek are the ones about to die. And then they’re dead before they can even think about saying anything to him. 

No one living has ever seen Derek. They just know of him from the legends.

They always call him the grim reaper. That always hurts him, because he doesn’t like taking people away from life, away from all those that love them. Even when they’re old and it’s just simply their time to die, Derek doesn’t like it. 

He hates his job. And he think of it as that. A job. It helps him get through each day. He’s just doing his job, nothing more. What he was made to do. He can’t do anything about it. It’s all out of his control.

Because even if he sometimes got flashes of something that might have been an old life, an actual life where he’d been alive, they never stay around long enough for him to figure out who he was, what time he lived in, and how old he was.

One day he’d just awoken in a forrest and felt this…this darkness within him. All he’d had on was a long, black robe. Then he’d felt this pull, this sort of energy, and he’d known exactly where to go, and what to do. He’d taken the man’s hand, who’d been on the brink of death, and the man had looked at him in shock, with wide-eyes, before they closed and Derek pulled his spirit out of his body as he said, “it’s time,” and took the man with him to the afterlife.

Derek didn’t like to visit the place very much. The spirits always begged him to take them back to their bodies, to bring them back to the world of the living. And he couldn’t do that. Once they were dead, that was it. There was no going back. It was impossible to put what once was back to the way it had been. 

Derek had been doing what he did, he knew, for hundreds of years. It was easy to lose track of time, so he wasn’t sure just how many hundreds of years he’d been doing it, but he had a feeling he’d taken over for another person, even though he had no idea how one stopped, or died, or no longer had the job. 

Derek was constantly busy, rarely ever had a moment to himself anyway, because so many people were dying. 

Derek was never able to get there in time for those who died in big groups, like those on The Titanic or 9/11, and they had to make the journey themselves. 

Derek always felt guilty when that happened. Because while Derek hated taking people into the afterlife, at least they had someone, something, anything with them when they went to it. Sometimes Derek wasn’t there in time to be that anything for them.

Some didn’t deserve it, didn’t deserve to have something, anything with them as they crossed over, but sometimes that’s just the way things went down. 

There were a few times where people were flatlining, and Derek came to them, prepared to take them, and he was sure sometimes they saw him, but when they were revived, they never remembered seeing him. 

Derek wished, everyday, that he could just live instead of being in this place between life and death, hovering between both. 

And then Derek got his first flash of hope the first day Stiles Stilinski almost died. 

The kid got in a car accident. One that was almost fatal. 

Derek had felt that pull, that need to be where this person was dying, and he’d walked through the door of his hospital room, walked to stand between a doctor and a nurse who were using the paddles to shock the kid in hopes of bringing him back to life, and Derek saw his face for the first time.

And Derek felt, for the first time in forever, really, something other than darkness inside him. He felt his breath whoosh out of him, and then the kid opened his eyes, and he stared right into Derek’s eyes, and Derek felt like he was staring at the very core of him, before Derek felt that he was being pulled away.

The kid had lived. 

And Derek found himself thinking about a person on earth in a way he never had before, in that he was still thinking about him at all. When a person died, all Derek thought about was guiding them into the afterlife before moving on to the next person. And if they almost died and maybe saw him for a second, Derek forgot about it as they surely did.

But not this time.

This time, he found himself drawn to the boy. And Derek didn’t know where he lived, but just by feeling where he was, Derek was able to find him.

Out of every single soul on the planet, Derek was drawn to this one. 

In the few minutes Derek got free, he immediately went to where he knew the boy was. Derek saw him laid up in his bed in what Derek supposed was his room, a cast on his leg, arm and a bandage wrapped around his bare chest, as well as a few bruises and scrapes scattered all over his body, his face.

Derek hadn’t had a few moments free in weeks and weeks, so he used every minute to his advantage. He stared at the boy, at his sleeping form.

Derek didn’t know how to measure age, but he guessed this boy was still in adolescence, but was on his way to becoming a man. Derek’s eyes lingered on the boys happy trail, and he shook his head at the weird tingling he felt when looking at it.

What was happening? Why was Derek feeling anything other than emptiness and the never ending darkness? What was this boy doing to him?

As if Derek was saying this out loud, and as if the boy could possibly hear him, he opened his eyes.

They were directed in Derek’s direction, and Derek’s breath caught, because it felt as if the boy was looking right at him, as if he could see Derek standing there watching him.

But then he blinked, yawning and stretching as much as he could with the casts on.

Derek’s breathing was quick, labored as he watch the boy struggle to sit up in bed. Derek wanted, so much, to go over and help the boy. 

It was weird. Derek didn’t know what this kid’s voice sounded like, didn’t know his personality, didn’t even know his name….and yet he felt things he’d never felt before, or at least things he couldn’t ever remember feeling.

“D-dad,” The boy croaked, sounding pained, and Derek felt a new wave of emotion at the sound of his voice. 

It was deeper than he’d been expecting…smoother, even with the roughness in it. 

It did things to Derek, things he couldn’t describe.

And then all of the sudden the boy let out a shout of surprise, his eyes zeroed in on Derek. “What the fuck!”

“What, what is it, son?” A man came rushing into the room, and Derek looked at the boy with wide, shocked eyes. 

And then Derek felt himself being pulled away, away to another person whose time had come.

“N-nothing. I just need help getting out of bed,” the boy admitted sheepishly as he looked at the spot where he could have sworn a man had been standing. A very pale, almost dead looking man. In a black robe. 

Shaking his head to rid the image from his mind, the boy smiled in thanks as his dad helped him out of bed. 

~*~

Derek goes months without seeing the boy. Or, what he thinks is months. It feels like years. 

But Derek never finds a moment when someone isn’t dying. It kind of makes Derek want to cry, with how many of those people don’t get to go peacefully, who don’t get to die old and warm in their bed. 

And the boy is almost one of those people. Again.

This time he fell off the roof of his house when he’d been cleaning out the gutters. 

Derek appears in the boy’s hospital room as he’s flatlining, as the doctors are working on him, and the boys eyes open again, and they lock right onto Derek, almost as if he’d been expecting him to be there. 

“It’s-” Derek starts to say as the boys eyes start to fall closed, but then he stabilizes and Derek’s being pulled away. It still isn’t this boy’s time. 

~*~

It’s probably another few months, Derek thinks, before he gets a few minutes free to go to the boy, to that same room. By now, Derek suspects it’s been about a year or so since the boy’s first brush with death. 

All those feelings he’d felt the last time he’d been able to stand there and watch him flood back almost immediately as he sees the boy typing away at his…it is called a computer, Derek believes. 

He looks a little banged up, probably still fully recovering from his fall months prior, but there are no casts this time. 

His hair is longer, much longer this time. The boy let it grow out. It looks amazing on him. The long hair makes him look much more mature. 

Derek wishes he could find out the boys name. But Derek had never found out the names of anyone on earth before. It would be a first.

Derek walks around to face the boy, to get a good look at his face. 

He’s…smiling, is what they call it. Smiling as he moves his fingers over the keyboard.

Then there is a ringing, and Derek looks down at the boys hand as he reaches out and grabs a small device…what they call a telephone.

“Hey, dude,” Stiles smiles, leans back in his chair and stretches so that his shirt rides up. Derek sees that happy trail again and gets that tingly feeling all over again. “Yeah, just finishing up some homework. Will the whole gang be there? Awesome, I’ll be there. What movie are we seeing?” The boy then groans. “Why? Why that? Surely there’s something better to see. All right, I’ll look myself and pick a better movie than that. Okay, see ya, buddy. Bye.”

He then hangs up and starts typing away at his computer, and Derek turns around to see what he’s looking up. 

Ah, he’s looking up what he had called movies. 

Derek looks at the boy, watches as his long fingers weave through his long brown locks as he sighs, leaning forward and staring at the screen. 

Derek lets out a sigh as starts to feel…almost human. Just because of this one boy…existing, basically. All he’s done is exist and it’s made Derek feel things he can’t ever remember feeling. Good things. Such good things.

The tingling makes him feel excited, and his breathing starts coming out a little ragged as something close to a pulse starts up inside him. Derek’s never really had a pulse. Caught between life and death would do that you. But now it felt as if he did.

“See, much better movies than that, Scott,” the boy mumbled, scooting back and turning around in his chair, and then immediately shouting and jumping up from his chair as he points at Derek. “You!”

Derek jumps back, lets out a gasp as the boy scrambles all the way back to his door, leaning against it as he stares at Derek with wide-eyes.

“What the everloving fuck are you doing in my room?” The boy shouted.

Derek open and closes his mouth, trying to process the fact that this boy could even see him. 

“You…you…look, I don’t know what your deal is, but I don’t like weird, dead looking, but strangely attractive people just appearing in my room, okay?” The boy said, his voice shaky. “How did you get in, anyway?”

“I…floated in,” Derek said, still shocked that this boy even saw him, let alone was talking to him. 

“You…floated in?” The boy said, his voice deadpan. 

“No one’s ever seen me before,” Derek said quietly. 

“What?” The boy asked, looking confused.

“You are the first,” Derek murmured.

“The first what?” The boy said, sounding annoyed. Derek didn’t like that. He didn’t want to make the boy annoyed at him. 

“To see me,” Derek said, hoping that would explain everything the boy needed to know.

“Huh?” He said, moving forward a step, a mix of trepidation and curiosity filling his features now.

Derek sighed. “No one has ever seen me." 

"You’re not making sense.” The boy shook his head. “Who are you?”

“I help people cross over,” Derek said simply.

“Cross over? What do you mean? Cross over where?” The boy said, that annoyed look back on his face. 

“The afterlife,” Derek said, patience clear in his voice and on his face.

“What.” And the boy didn’t make it sound like a question, even though the correct connotation would have been just that. 

Just then, Derek started to feel a pull, and cursed his life - or his undead life, or whatever kind of dead or alive he was. “I must go.”

The boy’s eyes widened. “What, you mean like go bring someone into the afterlife?”

“Yes,” Derek said, and then he was gone, leaving the boy staring at nothing and wondering if he was going crazy or if that had been entirely real. 

~*~

It’s about a year later, in Derek’s estimate, when the boy almost dies again. 

He was apparently stabbed, Derek finds out as he floats into the room and hears the doctors and nurses shouting as they tried to save him.

Derek feels himself wishing the boy doesn’t die this time, feels himself not wanting this boy to come with him, even if it would be nice to talk to him once they reached the afterlife. 

Derek wants him alive. And that had never mattered to Derek before, whether they lived or died. But it mattered now.

Derek was always, no matter what, thinking of this boy. He still had his long hair, but his features were even more matured. 

Derek had checked in on him a few times over the last year, but he’d only had enough time to look in on him and wish he was alive and not…not the damn grim reaper so that he could know this boy properly, maybe even kiss him, before he was pulled away to welcome someone else into the afterlife. 

Derek felt as if he was developing something like feelings for this boy. And he still didn’t even know his name.

But that all changed when a man, who Derek assumed was the boy’s father, as he looked familiar, ran into the room. 

The doctors all tried to push him out, telling him that he couldn’t be in there. But he refused, rushing to his side. “Stiles. Stiles, please don’t die.’

"And he won’t if you let us do our job, Mr. Stilinski,” a nurse said gently, tugging at the man’s arm.

“Stiles. Stiles, please. You’re all I have left,” The man cried.

Derek, in that moment, wished he was someone who brought life and not death.

_Stiles._

Derek went to the boys side as the doctors forcibly dragged Stiles’ father out of the room and saw Stiles open his eyes, as he had the previous two times. But this time, when his eyes locked on Derek’s, there was recognition in his gaze.

But Derek was gone before he could think too much about it, Stiles revived once more.

~*~

The next time Derek was able to get a few minutes to himself, it was only days later, and the boy - Stiles - was still in his hospital room, still recovering from a knife to the gut.

Derek found himself wanting to know how Stiles had gotten stabbed. Found himself wanting to really talk to him.

When Derek came, Stiles was alone, but awake, watching what was called a television.

Derek wondered if Stiles would see him, and after Derek got a rush of emotion just looking at him, alive and well, after all those feelings rushed through him, after he started to feel like a human as he had before, Stiles did.

But this time he didn’t even jump when he saw Derek. He’s eyes widened a little bit, but other than that, he remained calm. “You.”

“Me,” Derek responded, furrowing his brow as he looked at Stiles. It was so surreal, someone seeing him, talking to him.

“I know what you are now,” Stiles said quietly, and Derek nodded. “The Grim Reaper.”

Derek winced. “I hate that name.”

Stiles’ eyebrows rose. “Oh? And what do you prefer?” He said with a little bit of amusement in his tone. 

“My name,” Derek said simply, honestly.

“You have a name?” Stiles said in wonder, looking at Derek as if he’d never seen him before, as he had the first time Derek had been in his room. 

“Yes,” Derek said. “My name is Derek.”

“Derek?” Stiles said blankly, looking up at Derek and then snorting. “Your name is Derek? The grim reaper’s name is Derek?” Stiles shook his head in wonder. “Now I’ve heard everything.”

“That’s all I know,” Derek shrugged. “I know nothing else but my name." 

Stiles furrowed his brow in thought. "How long have you been doing this gig?” Stiles murmured.

“A few hundred years, at least,” Derek shrugged, and Stiles blew out a breath.

“Wow. That’s uh…that’s a long time.”

“Yes, it is." 

"I uh…I looked you up, after the last time we talked,” Stiles said, playing with his fingers, showing Derek that he was nervous in that movement. “I gathered that you were the grim reaper, and of course, every site said you were just a legend, some made up thing, like werewolves.” There Stiles snorted, laughing softly under his breath. “But like werewolves, you’re real." 

"Is that what stabbed you?” Derek said, looking down at Stiles’ stomach where he knew the wound was slowly starting to heal. 

Stiles sighed. “No. It was werewolf hunters. Humans." 

Derek looked at Stiles. "It would make more sense that a werewolf would do this.”

“Stab me? No, that’s purely a human thing,” Stiles said bitterly. 

Derek looked down at nothing as a flash swirled in his mind of him running at a girl, a younger girl, as someone ran toward her, a knife in their hand. “I think I was human once,” Derek blurted.

Stiles looked up at Derek in surprise. “You mean…you mean you weren’t always…always…”

“The grim reaper?” Derek felt a smirk tug at his lips, and it was a foreign feeling. “No. I don’t really remember anything, but I felt that I had a life before…this.” And he made a sweeping gesture with his hands, moving up and down to encompass his whole body. 

“How come I can see you?” Stiles asked quietly. 

“I don’t know,” Derek said, shrugged. “I just know that I…feel something. When I look at you." 

Stiles paused, looking at Derek intensely as his breathing picked up speed. "I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. And I…I remember seeing you, as I was about to die.”

“No one ever remembers me if they end up living.”

Stiles nodded, looking down at his hands. “Well that’s…” he trailed off, and when he looked up, Derek was gone. 

~*~

Stiles waited for Derek to show up again. He waited for months, and he started to think he’d never see him again as he continued to see nothing of Derek. 

It was weird that their grim reaper had a name. And it was weird not thinking of him as “the grim reaper” in his head all the time. 

And also, who knew that the grim reaper was so attractive? Stiles certainly hadn’t.

It was weird, how when Stiles thought of Derek, he felt something twist and flutter in his gut, felt his pulse pick up.

He couldn’t possibly be gaining feelings for the freaking grim reaper, could he?

Because thinking that freaked him out, he went to researching everything he could on the grim reaper. 

Most of what he came across was bullshit, but a few things sounded helpful, so Stiles printed a few pages out.

Sometimes it felt like Derek could be there, but that feeling didn’t last long, and it just left Stiles feeling slightly depressed. 

He found himself wanting to see Derek, wanting to see him so he could talk to him. 

He even thought at one point that maybe, if he almost died again…but then he berated himself for that stupid thought. He wasn’t Bella Swan, for fuck’s sake.

So he went on, tried to put Derek out of his mind, because what else was he supposed to do?

And anyway, he had finals coming up, and then graduation. Then he would be going to college. He definitely wouldn’t have time for thinking weird thoughts about the grim reaper, who it seemed only Stiles could see.

Sometimes.

In the end, it didn’t matter what he told himself, because he still found himself thinking about Derek and expecting for him to pop up out of nowhere, found himself anticipating it.

When it didn’t happen, Stiles felt disappointed.

~*~

Derek tried to find time to check in on Stiles regularly, but when he did, he was only able to stay for a minute or two before he felt that pull. He was never able to stay long enough to somehow become visible to Stiles.

Derek still didn’t know how it happened. It just did. 

But Derek had a job to do, and even though he thought of Stiles constantly, he was the one who had to bring people to the afterlife, no matter how much he wished he was talking to Stiles instead.

He was able to visit Stiles a few more times over the next few months, but he never became visible until his last visit.

It took about five minutes or so, but Derek felt that rush of feelings he always felt look at Stiles on his computer, surfing the web. 

He wasn’t even doing anything. He was just sitting there, chewing on his fingernail and squinting at the screen, and Derek thought he looked beautiful. 

And as if he sensed him, Stiles turned around in his chair. He didn’t even jump or shout. He just smiled and stood up. 

“Hey,” he said.

“H-hey.” Derek felt himself smiling back.

“It’s been awhile,” Stiles said.

“Yeah,” Derek said, not knowing what else to say. Funny how he’d been craving to actually have Stiles see him again so they could talk, just talk, and he could think of nothing to say now that he had the chance.

Stiles turned around and moved to his desk. “I printed these out months ago, but I kept them handy incase you ever showed up.” Stiles stood back up, walking over to Derek and showing him papers with many, many words typed out on them.

“What are they?” Derek asked in curiosity. 

“I looked up the grim reaper months ago - well, you. To read up on you and how one becomes a grim reaper and so on.”

Derek looked up at Stiles. “You did that?”

“Yeah. I…I wanted to know if there was some way you could possibly…stop being the grim reaper,” Stiles said hesitantly.

Derek’s eyes widened in shock. “Stop? I don’t understand.”

“Well, you told me you’ve been the grim reaper for hundreds of years, and that you felt like you’d had a life…before all of this, and so I thought that if a human could become the grim reaper, then they could also, well, stop being the grim reaper. Because there must have been someone before you, right? I mean, why would the universe randomly create the grim reaper just a few hundred years ago? Doesn’t make much sense. So. I researched. It’s what I do,” Stiles said, a proud lilt to his voice. 

“And what did you find?” Derek asked, almost afraid to hope. 

“Well, a lot of it was bullshit -” Stiles sighed “-but I found this one thing that said that there is a legend of the grim reaper becoming human again, around a thousand years ago, like someone witnessed it - them - become corporeal and everything. Apparently he or she fell in love?” Stiles sounded unsure, looking down at the papers. “Like, apparently they found their one true love or whatever and they felt something other than darkness and nothingness. And that allowed them to become human. Because they loved that person and they loved him or her just as much." 

Derek felt dizzy, felt his breath coming in short gasps. 

Stiles looked up at the sound of Derek’s fast breathing. "Derek? Derek, you okay?" 

"I - I have to…” Derek couldn’t bring himself to finish and just floated over to Stiles’ bed and sat. He couldn't remember the last time he’d sat down.

“Dude, I think you’re having a panic attack,” Stiles said, worry laced in his tone as he tossed the papers aside and rushed over to Derek. He tried to touch Derek’s arm, but his hand just passed through Derek.

But Derek felt it deep in his bones. He shivered, and slowly, slowly as Stiles looked on in worry and helplessness, he was able to regulate his breathing.

“Derek?” Stiles asked softly, scooting a little closer to Derek.

“I’m-I’m sorry,” Derek cleared his throat. “I just…I think…I think I became what you call the grim reaper after…after that person, the person you just talked about." 

"Really?” Stiles’ eyebrows shot up, a look of wonder crossing over his face. “You mean that you’ve been the grim reaper for a thousand fucking years?”

“Yes,” Derek nodded. 

Stiles blew out a breath, and looked around his room at nothing in particular as he breathed out, “wow.”

“I remember…I remember this…this cottage,” Derek said, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to remember more. “I remember the clothing…it was very, very old looking. From so long ago. And I know I’ve been doing this for so long…it’s so, well, lonely,” Derek admitted softly, not ale to look at Stiles. “And I remember running forward toward my sister, I think she was my sister. But I was too late." 

"Too late?” Stiles asked softly.

Derek shook his head, standing up quickly. “I can’t remember what. I just know that I was too late." 

"Did she-did she, um, die?” Stiles asked cautiously.

Derek looked at Stiles sharply.

“Was she,” Stiles swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Was she murdered?”

Derek turned away. “I have to go,” Derek said quickly, floating toward Stiles’ window. “I’m feel the pull of another spirit whose time on this earth is at an end.” Derek was lying, but he couldn’t talk about this with Stiles anymore. He didn’t want to remember that day, so many, many years ago when he was alive, was human. Because he knows, deep down, what happened.

“Derek.” Stiles stepped forward, reaching out to stop him and remembering that he couldn’t touch him at the last second, slowly lowering his hand as he stared at Derek. “Maybe…maybe remembering your life as a human will help you to maybe, I don’t know, get closure or move on or something." 

"No, it will do nothing. I don’t want to remember it. Goodbye, Stiles,” Derek said, and floated through the window, but Stiles could still see him, as his window opened behind Derek and Stiles stuck his head out.

“Derek, please don’t go. We need to talk about this. About how to make you human again.”

“We don’t,” Derek called back, and when he felt the pull, that tug, he was grateful for it as he disappeared right in front of Stiles’ eyes.

~*~

It was months before Derek saw Stiles again.

And he didn’t like the circumstances in which he did.

Because Stiles almost died. Again.

He was shot, this time. By a rogue hunter out for revenge against the McCall pack because they’d killed the hunter who’d stabbed Stiles. The guy had been searching for Stiles for months, and then stalking him for weeks when he found him.

Stiles, apparently, was in college by this time.

He was able to stop the guy from shooting him point blank in the head, but he’d still gotten shot in the stomach before he’d taken the gun and knocked the guy out with it and was able to get away before he woke up.

Stiles had run to the nearest hospital, and it had been long enough that he’d almost bled out.

That’s where Derek came in.

He’d come to Stiles, and he was too worried about Stiles not surviving that he didn’t notice Stiles open his eyes, see Derek, and smile to himself as they closed and he flatlined.

Derek shook his head, stepping back. Stiles wouldn’t die. He wouldn’t.

Derek refused to believe it as the doctor called out “clear!” and put the paddle to Stiles’ chest.

But, once again, they revived Stiles. 

Derek was getting really tired of Stiles almost dying. He really wished he wouldn’t.

Stiles’ dad expressed the same sentiment when he made it a day or so after the incident, even though Stiles was now in a coma. 

Derek had to deal with other spirits, but over the next week he made sure to check in on Stiles.

He was always still in a coma. His father, and a boy Derek assumed was Scott, were there a lot.

Thankfully, Stiles woke up after about two weeks, and Derek breathed a sigh of relief when he checked in on him and his eyes were open and smiling.

~*~

Stiles opened his eyes, and his eyes immediately looked around his hospital room, wondering if he was there.

And he was, floating near the window so that the moonlight lit him up.

“Derek,” Stiles breathed.

“Luckily I’m not here to take you to the afterlife,” Derek said, his tone stern as he floated over to Stiles’ bed.

Stiles smiled. “Luckily." 

"You really should try and stop almost dying,” Derek sighed, shaking his head when Stiles laughed softly.

“I’ll try. I promise,” Stiles said in response to Derek’s glare.

“Good,” Derek said, nodding.

Stiles fiddled with the blanket, looking down at his hand instead of at Derek. “I um…I wanted to say, I’m sorry. For kinda pushing you, the last time we talked.”

Derek shook his head. “It’s forgotten." 

Stiles looked up at Derek. "I found more online about you." Derek tilted his head, giving a slight nod to Stiles to go ahead and tell him what he found. "Um, well, it said that someone could become the grim reaper only if, at the time of their death, they…um, were filled with such despair and hurt and were basically a broken human being,” Stiles winced, unable to look at Derek as he finished. “And that they would most likely have had something tragic happen to them.”

As the silence went on, Stiles looked at Derek, found he couldn’t keep looking away, found that he had to look at Derek.

Derek was staring at nothing, only looked at Stiles when he sat up in his hospital bed gingerly and grunted in slight pain. 

“I’m sorry, Derek. For whatever happened to you. And your sister.”

“I think it was most likely my whole family,” Derek said softly, looking sad as he floated back over to the window.

Stiles breathed out sharply. It hurt him, that Derek had been hurt so much in his human life. That he was now welcoming people into their death and was unable to get out of doing so. That he was forced to do something he clearly didn’t want to do.

Stiles hated whoever, whatever, had done this to Derek, even though he was happy to know him. Because Derek didn’t deserve this, even if it had allowed Stiles to meet him and feel things he’d never felt before in his life. 

“I’m sorry, Derek. You don’t deserve this. And you didn’t deserve whatever happened to you and your family so many years ago,” Stiles said softly.

Derek turned around, looking at Stiles. “The thing is, I think I do. Deserve this.”

“What?” Stiles was incredulous as he looked at Derek.

Derek shrugged. “I just have this feeling like it was all my fault.”

“Derek…” Stiles breathed out, but in the next instant, Derek had floated through the wall and was gone.

Stiles hit his bed in frustration, then groaned at the pain that caused in his stomach.

Fucking stubborn grim reapers, Stiles thought.

~*~

A few weeks later, Stiles was discharged from the hospital, and Derek now visited Stiles at his dorm when he was able. 

It made him feel better to check up on him, to see that he was healing and starting to get back to his day to day life, to walk normally and look healthy again, even though he’d been in a car accident, fell off a roof, been stabbed and now shot, all within three years of each other. 

It was as if Stiles was a lightening rod for these things, for almost dying.

Or maybe the universe was trying to tell Derek something that he hadn’t quite figured out yet.

Derek tried not to dwell on it as he went about doing his job, doing the thing that allowed him exist in the first place.

But that didn’t mean he could keep Stiles out of his mind. He thought about him almost constantly, found himself thinking about his lips, his hands, his skin, those moles dotted along his face and neck, and there were probably more under his clothes, and that thought got Derek thinking about Stiles without a shirt, and then without pants, and without underwear and Derek had to stop that thought process, especially when it felt like someone had seen him when they’d looked in his direction.

But after that, when he checked in with Stiles every couple of weeks, he was able to become visible quicker.

And then he and Stiles would talk. 

Stiles would greet him as if Derek was a roommate or a friend, and he’d tell Derek about things he thought they could try in getting Derek to become a human again, but Derek would have none of it, because it involved a lot of remembering his life as a human and he didn’t want to, not one bit.

~*~

It was funny, but Derek was starting to feel the pull less and less, and mostly when he was in Stiles’ presence did he not feel it, that he got to just stand and talk with him for about an hour or more before he felt it.

It was a little strange, but Derek liked it. He liked not having to do his job as much as he used to. 

Instead of only having two, maybe three minutes of peace and quiet, Derek had closer to an hour or two, as if…as if something. Derek didn’t know why it was happening.

But Stiles seemed happy when Derek didn’t leave for a long time.

It felt, for at least an hour or two every couple of weeks, like Derek was human, and Stiles made him feel that way.

Stiles made Derek smile, he made him laugh, made something inside him flutter, made his arms tingle. He made Derek feel…alive. 

He made Derek feel something, made him feel more than just darkness and death.

He took Derek’s breath away.

~*~

It happened when Stiles almost died once more.

It was stupid, really.

It was no hunter, no werewolf, nothing having to do with supernatural. 

Stiles fell in the shower.

He slipped and hit his head. Thankfully, his roommate had been in the bathroom as well, getting ready for bed, and had heard him fall and hit his head.

He had immediately called 911 and got Stiles to the hospital. 

Derek was there as Stiles slipped into a coma, he was there as Stiles’ father came and ranted about how angry he was at Stiles for almost dying all the time before he started crying.

Derek slipped out of the room to leave Mr. Stilinski alone, even though he didn’t know Derek was there.

It was awhile before Stiles woke up, but he did.

Derek was there, rarely even felt a pull these days.

Stiles smiled tiredly at Derek, and Derek scowled.

“This is really getting annoying." 

Stiles laughed softly. "I don’t do it on purpose.”

“No one almost dies five times within three years,” Derek huffed.

“I guess I’m special,” Stiles shrugged sheepishly.

“You’re something, all right,” Derek muttered. 

Stiles grinned and lifted his hand up to take Derek’s, and then groans in frustration when his hand passes through Derek’s.

“Stupid transparency,” Stiles pouted.

It was Derek’s turn to laugh as Stiles closed his eyes.

“I guess I should let you sleep,” Derek murmured and Stiles protests halfheartedly. 

“Don’ go,” Stiles muttered, even though he could barely keep his eyes open.

“You should sleep. You need it,” Derek sighed. 

“Nuh uh,” Stiles mumbled, but his eyes closed and his breath evened out anyway.

Derek smiled softly, reaching his hand to Stiles’ cheek and wishing he could actually touch it.

Then he left, letting Stiles get his much needed rest.

~*~

Derek was pulled to Stiles when he flatlined. Again. 

At first he’d been seizing, and according to the doctors, there was bleeding in his brain that had caused it.

But then the doctor and nurses got out the paddles as they tried to revive Stiles.

Derek was frantic as he walked around Stiles’ bed, floating through the nurses as he tried to get close and see Stiles. “Stiles, please. You can’t do this. After all this time, you can’t do this!”

Derek was a mess as they tried over and over. 

He walked towards the door, rounded to start pacing again. “Stiles, please,” Derek whispered. 

This couldn’t happen. He’d beat it every time, had always come back from the brink of death, always lived. He could’t die this time.

Because Derek.

Derek…

Derek loved him. 

Derek loved Stiles. 

The realization hit Derek like a ton of bricks, and he froze right by the door, looking at Stiles’ limp form.

He was…fuck, he was in love with Stiles.

He wanted to be with Stiles. Wanted to be able to touch him. Wanted to be human again. He wanted to kiss Stiles. He wanted to hold him.

He wanted everything with him.

And so, one minute Derek was invisible, and the next a nurse gasped, walking over to Derek and saying, “You can’t be in here, sir. How did you get in here? You have to wait in the waiting room.”

And Derek was being pushed out of the room.

And then he was standing in the hospital hallway, in a big black cloak, and visible. Solid. 

Human.

Derek laughed shakily as he held up his hands, ignored the weird look he got by someone passing by.

Because he was real.

And he was in love with Stiles. And Stiles must be in love with him, too, or else he wouldn’t have become human.

Derek stayed to make sure Stiles lived, and he almost cried in relief when he heard the doctor tell Mr. Stilinski that Stiles had lived.

With that knowledge, Derek determined that now would be a good time to get actual clothes, because while he loved that he was now human, he could do without the stares.

~*~

Derek found some money in a random man’s wallet he pick pocketed, and Derek felt bad about doing it, but he needed it so that he could buy clothes that were normal.

He got weird looks when he went to the clothing store in a black cloak, which is why he bought everything quickly before changing into it the dressing room before he left.

On his way back to the hospital, he got appreciative looks instead. 

He made sure Stiles was alone before moving into his room.

Stiles was awake, and he looked over as Derek closed the door behind him.

His eyes widened and he sat up in bed. “Woah, Derek!”

Derek turned around, walking over to Stiles. “I’m uh…I…I’m solid.” Derek said breathlessly, holding out a hand for Stiles to take.

Stiles did, and their breath caught at the contact. Stiles looked up at Derek. “How?”

“I’m human, Stiles.”

Stiles took a deep breath. “How did you-”

“I’m in love with you, Stiles,” Derek said simply.

Stiles looked up at Derek with wide eyes. “You are?”

Derek nodded. “And I don’t know if your research was true or not, but you said that…um, I could only be turned human if…if the person I loved…loved me back,” Derek said carefully.

But Stiles just smiled, reaching out and taking ahold of Derek’s hand again. “I love you, Derek.”

Derek breathed out slowly, and he felt like he was taking the weight of the world off his shoulders with it. With a relieved smile, Derek leaned forward and took Stiles’ lips in his.

Stiles made a noise of surprise, then leaned into the kiss with much enthusiasm, even going so far as to slip his tongue past Derek’s lips, and pulled Derek closer to him with a hand on the back of his neck. 

Derek had never kissed anyone, or if he had, he couldn’t remember it. Maybe he’d remember his former human life in time.

But for now, he was content with just being with Stiles. 

Nothing else really mattered, anyway.


End file.
